Muskrat Does a Keg Stand

Yikes. I'm usually not the kind of person who gets so drunk as to be unable to function. I'll usually get pretty drunk at first and then slow it down gradually so that by around 3am I'm pretty sobered up, drinking water, and going to bed. Not so last night, my friends. J at work threw a party at his house with all of his roommates and all of their crazy friends. They actually had a keg, which was funny for me because I never did keg parties in college at all. Once J found out about that, he told me I had to do a keg stand, which I had never heard of before last night. Apparently this is where two people hold your legs in the air while you grip the sides of the keg and drink as much beer as you can directly from the nozzle. I looked up at J drunkenly and giggled, "That doesn't sound very hygenic!"

Well, I did it, but not very successfully. I think I got more beer on my clothing and on the porch than in my stomach, but then again there was already plenty in my stomach. I don't know what was wrong with me last night. I was actually drinking the way Elliot used to; he would already be completely drunk, but still drinking more just for the hell of it. There's only so drunk you can get, though, and after that you're just making yourself sick. I always hated that about him; everyone else would be slowing down, winding up the party, falling asleep, and he'd just keep on drinking in this driven, scary kind of way.

I suppose I can't judge him anymore, though. I consumed enough beer last night to get an entire football team drunk. J and his roommates had a bowl of pieces of paper with tasks written on them, and when anyone came in, they had to take a task and perform it before the night was through. Mine read: "Put your hand in your pants and keep it there for three minutes. Refuse to explain." It didn't take too long before I performed my task with enthusiasm, much to the delight of my fellow partiers. After many more beers, I devised my own task, which was to kiss everyone at the party. I used to be able to count on my hands the number of people I've kissed in my life. Now I have no idea what the number is, but I think I made out with roughly 15 people, three of them my coworkers J, M, and D. At the end of my kissing run, everyone wanted to know who was the best kisser. I wasn't really sure, so I just shrugged, but today I thought of the greatest answer that I should have said: "Me!"

Today was much less pleasant. I woke up in one of J's roomate's rooms, the same roommate who once stayed the night at my apartment with J after a party, slept in my bed, and tried unsuccessfully for an hour to get me to kiss him. He was snoring so loudly that night and this morning that I actually hit him with a pillow. He didn't stop for a moment today, though, so I got up, got M and her friend Beth and drove them home. About a mile from M's apartment, I vomited in a Sonic bag I had in the car. Beth switched me places and drove me over to someone's front lawn where I threw up some more. Once I finally got home I vomited up the aspirin M had given me and just fell asleep until this afternoon. Drinking is bad for you, kids. Don't do it.

I feel like such a cliche of the early-twenties single girl living in a party town. I'm having a lot of fun, but I know this isn't me. I think it's time to calm down and spend more time reading and hanging out in coffee shops. No more smoking, no more heavy drinking, no more kissing complete strangers. I'm having surgery on my feet in a couple of weeks, and I'd like to be semi-healthy before I go under the knife. I'll be unable to really walk anywhere for two weeks, so that will give me plenty of time to calm my life the hell down. In the meantime, I'll try to get myself in the habit of not living like a member of The Real World.